


in our future, there's a past

by hallowed (AMRainer)



Series: as told through history. [7]
Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, F/M, Idiots in Love, Parallels, i love them so much they deserve happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMRainer/pseuds/hallowed
Summary: his gift to her this year is all that he can give her — it's himself, thoroughly.
Relationships: Contessina de' Bardi/Cosimo di Giovanni de' Medici
Series: as told through history. [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824556
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	in our future, there's a past

**Author's Note:**

> hello sweets!! as it's Christmas, i thought to bring to you the explanation on how Cosimo got Contessina to wear the necklace again. there is a parallel too, because i love the idea of baby Piero while they were still young and all that.
> 
> anyway, this is pure fluff!! i hope you enjoy iit.

The fireplace sat creaking in the background as the matriarch held a goblet in her hand, half-full while she amusedly watched Piero hold the little Lorenzo in his arms. He had grown finely within his first year, and as the birth of Christ arrived to them, they were to spoil the boy with the best gifts.

  
Carlo clung up to her hip, opposite of her full hand as the boy seemed oddly affectionate of her. It sat strangely with her sometimes that Cosimo and her agreed that Maddalena ought to go once the boy was birthed, but she had promised to give him a good life and opportunity in the years to come. They ought to raise him as their own, no?

Still, when the dark-haired boy brought the long pearly necklace of hers to his mouth, Contessina was reminded of a past in which she never thought this would become of her. The child in her arms was not another woman’s — it was her own, the mop of brown curls on top of his head much like the grandson of hers that he now bore in his grip.

“Give him to me, you haven’t let go of Piero since we finished dinner”, Cosimo’s voice came about as he forsake his goblet and eagerly offered his hands for their son. “You have yet to open your gift.”

And the young mother probably did, yet it posed as such a blessing that shortly after a year into their marriage and she already provided him with what she ought to. A son and heir, one that found unmeasurable love within his mother from the moment she first landed eyes on him.

His little hands, small fingers and those rosy cheeks even when he was properly dressed to keep him from the cold of winter. Even moreso when he was to fill his father’s strong grip, still trying to figure out how to properly handle a child even if he was more dedicated to their son than Contessina could have ever hoped for.

“I’m afraid I may lose an instant if I let go of him”, she mentioned amidst a small smile, pride in her dainty visage as she smoothed Piero’s clothes and offered a small squeeze to her husband’s forearm.

A reassurance, that he was doing alright and she would follow his advice. Thus, the woman would move towards the table where the few remaining presents were resting while Piccarda stood near and seemed to engage in chatter with some of the other guests — relatives of the Medici family that usually came about for those festivities, so she had learned as a year previous she had debuted in this event.

Naturally, with her transition from simply a consort to motherhood, it was not a surprise when most of her gifts were, in fact, related to her baby instead. Contessina would have appreciated something different, definitely, but she’s learned her way around these things quite often since some of her friends were married off and bore children before her.

From her mother-in-law, she would get a set of new veils to wear when she went out; from her father-in-law, fabrics for a new dress; and then from Lorenzo, a hairbrush carved with a beautiful flowery pattern that earned him a cheeky grin on her part.

“I hope you do not imply my hair lives in disarray, Lorenzo”, was her remark to the man as he leaned against the wall near the fireplace in mirthful conversation with one of their cousins.

“You take it as you will, sister”, the younger Medici brother was to jest back amidst a chuckle.

Just as the moment took place, it died down whilst the brunette shook her head in amusement and figured no gifts were left for her. Nothing from Cosimo, it seemed, and perhaps a part of her felt this weird sentiment seep within her until he rested a hand on the small of her back.

“Come with me”, it was more of a request, and when the woman tilted her had to look at him, it was not Piero he held anymore — but it was an emptiness that would have her wondering if he had placed Carlo under the care of the nannies once again, when it appeared quite clear to her then that he had a harder time forgiving himself than she had bestowing him with her mercy.

Not only such was a stark contrast, but his tone was a raspier pitch, severed away from the wraps of youth and lasting innocence. Hair displayed a prominent grey streak along with a salt-and-pepper that was merely a sign of the times, along with the lines around his eyes that matched hers.

A quiet nod on her part as the Madonna would trail beside him towards one of the empty rooms downstairs until they were found solely in each other’s presence. When the door was sealed and he moved towards the table, it would be a frown to muster on her temple with emeralds looking after his every step.

“What is it?”, the brunette found in herself to ask as she hesitantly moved towards him instead, his back being all that she saw as he seemed to fiddle with something.

“I spent a while thinking what to gift you with and it appears to me nothing would be worth of what all you’ve done these past years”, his tone was careful and she idly wondered if he actually prepared words to tell her, which flattered her in a way.

But that was until she was beside him and so her eyes would land on the jewellery box, the necklace he had bestowed upon her all those years ago sitting quietly on the velvety of the small cushion. As though it was new, from the time he clasped it around her neck while she held Piero in her arms and she would wear it with such great joy.

Blues were to seek her greens and then he would be stuck, enthralled by the havoc of emotions behind her calm features. Contessina had a composure that he found enticing, something that drew him to her throughout their entire marriage — how she would be an excellent host, how she would cover up with a smile and machine behind that all in order to reach what she wanted without needing to draw a drip of blood.

“So I’ve come to give you the one thing I should have”, and so on he turned to face her, tongue dampening his lips when he took her hand and halted his speech for a minute as it appeared to him harder than he thought it could ever be. “A while ago, we sat here in this same room, and I could never finish what I had to say. . . that _without you I_ wouldn’t be the man I am now, Contessina, and I know this sounds odd coming from me, but you’ve given me so much and I did little in return—”.

This time it wasn’t a servant to come in, to tell him that the Signoria was recalled and that he would walk into his death. No, this time it was her who rose on her tiptoes, small feminine hand cupping his cheek when she inched closer to him — his arm secured around her as his fingers held onto the belt of her dress.

“I know”, was her sweet tone against his brims, the tip of his nose brushing to hers within a skimo kiss instead.

“Do not make this easy on me”, it was his reply, remembering that other time in which she would do the very same ( grateful for it, even if in his own ways ). “But I would be the most honored man in Florence if you were to accept the necklace back, if you would be proud to wear it again as I am proud to be your husband.”

The woman chose not to respond right away, her red-tinted lips pressing to his distractedly as he held her against him and skimmed his fingers through her long waves even if she wore a half-combed style. It would not be a surprise, would it? Surely Lorenzo would have pestered him about how often he tended to do such a thing — enough to give his wife a hairbrush that she still owned with dear affection.

When the tender gesture broke, the brunette would settle down once again despite how she felt warm in his embrace. It wasn’t as rare as it appeared to be, but the matriarch would be taken by it every single time.

“It sits with me like a proposal, Cosimo”, fingertips toyed with the button of his thick wear. “Had I not known your true loves were your bills of exchange and the cupola, I would have thought you’ve fallen for me too.”

There was this ungentlemanly snort on his part before he broke into laughter at her sneaky comment. So on he would caress her face, his thumb tracing her high cheekbones and the smoothness of her pale skin as she fit perfectly in his arms.

“You know, a man has three loves in his life”, his spirits were lifted as their lasting truce seemed to be further cemented.

Did not save him from the way she pulled away and smacked his upper arm in playful manner. Her delicate extremities were to pick up the pearls and golden crucifix from the resting place, snapped the hook open before she spun to present it to him in order to fix it for her. Tucking her hair aside when he replaced her hand on the necklace, the woman waited for him to finish his part until the item sat quietly on her skin again.

His lips would press to the nape of her neck once he was done with it, masculine palms rubbing to her sleeved upper arm. It was a small gesture, a little thing, but it showed to her then that, perhaps, they were finally heading towards the right direction.

**Author's Note:**

> consider dropping a comment, please?
> 
> and merry Christmas <3


End file.
